A Proper Charlie (12 page)

‘
Faye Craven, you bitch! I’m practically Fanny’s right hand man…’

Charlie tossed her empty cup into the bin, and looked over towards Fanny’s office. Straightening her skirt and smoothing her blouse as Melvin and Faye fired insult after insult at one another, Charlie made her way towards the office. It was now or never.

‘
Don’t go bothering Mr Middleton, Charlie,’ Mr Fanton said wearily from his new position. ‘He’s a busy man, you know,’ he added just as Melvin squealed from his desk,

‘
Charlie! There’s something you should –’

Charlie looked around at him as her knuckles rapped against the door; Mr Fanton audibly groaned and snapped, ‘Tuck your shirt in, girl, you look a state!’

Charlie tucked in her blouse, and tried to smooth down her impossibly curly hair then gave Melvin the thumbs up.

Bless him; he really worried about her too much.

FIFTEEN

T
he talk Ben gave to the staff this morning went better than he expected. Many of them were glad of the merge and relished the change. Some were still discussing the meeting; congregating in groups. Ben stood to pull the blind over the window that overlooked the office. He thought they’d earned their privacy for a while. A red-headed woman was striding towards Mr Fanton, tucking in a rumpled looking blouse.

Ben pulled the blind, then turned to sit at his desk. He rested his forehead in his hands, and stared down at the photo on his desk. It was unassuming. An ordinary girl who could be anyone’s daughter or sister.

It was a photo of Sally Readman, which the PI had faxed over this morning. Ben had been hoping she looked different; someone he could easily spot in a crowd.

In one way, it was good that he worked for a newspaper, because he could keep his family business out of media attention, but also he had it first-hand how a possible killer was on the loose and settling his sights on prostitutes. He only hoped his sister wasn’t going to be a victim in a case of mistaken identity with Sally Readman.

The man, so-called Gentleman Abductor by
The Globe
because he was reported to drive a ‘posh’ car and spoke with an upper class accent, seemed to be preying on prostitutes, and since the PI told Ben that Camilla had squatted –
squatted
– Ben closed his eyes. He couldn’t imagine Camilla ‘squatting’ anywhere, but apparently she had been with Readman, and unknowingly in danger.

And Ben felt responsible. He could have handled their mother’s revelation better. In hindsight, he acted just like his father and ignored the situation – ignored Camilla’s distress.

Ben picked up the photograph, and studied it. He’d ventured out into the red-light area Sunday night, before he had this information on Sally, just to test the waters, so to speak. He’d been shocked at the age of some of the women – some only in their early teens. But the ones he’d spoken to hadn’t seen or even heard of Sally, let alone Camilla.

Ben tucked the photo back into the pocket of his jacket as he tried to focus on work. He felt almost tempted to let the newspaper continue its slide into the gutter and to hell with his father. He’d lost a lot of interest in the Middleton Group since his mum’s passing and his sister’s disappearance. It was as if he’d suddenly realised there was a lot more to life than work, but couldn’t find his way out of the dark and dank hole he’d dug himself in.

If the sky was blue and the sun shining, he couldn’t see or feel it. Life had always been a cold and lonely place but now it was without meaning as well.

A sharp knock on his door startled him because he’d been so engrossed in his thoughts. He gave permission to enter, and waited with a polite smile fixed on his face. The door remained closed, and the knock came again so loudly he wondered if the person on the other side was using something more than just their hand.

‘
Come in!’ he shouted, and the door opened with a flourish. On the threshold stood a scruffily dressed woman – or was that the fashion these days? Her blouse and skirt looked as if she’d slept in them, and her hair was a mass of untamed red curls.

She boldly came towards him with an outstretched hand and a huge smile on her face. ‘Charlie… er, Charlotte Wallis,’ she introduced herself. She stopped a little too late and banged into the corner of his desk with her hip.

Ben clutched his rocking coffee cup, and stopped his Star Wars penholder from scattering all over the floor as the pile of papers in his pending tray floated towards the carpet.

‘
Oops,’ she said with a chuckle, and dropped to her knees. Under the table, he could hear her muttering one or two swear words. She fumbled for the fallen papers, while behind his desk Ben rubbed the back of his neck.

The mad woman, or rather, Ms Wallis, kneeled up and plonked a pile of papers on his desk, and then a pair of amazing bright green eyes laughed up at him.

‘
Were they in some sort of order?’ she asked, without apology.

He sighed. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

She stood up grinning brightly, and extended her hand across the table. ‘Charlie Wallis,’ she offered again. She wasn’t a beauty, or even pretty, with her too wide mouth, messy ginger hair and a face full of freckles, but she certainly wasn’t unattractive. She was someone a modelling agency might term interesting. Ah… she was also the crazy woman from Saturday night’s party. She looked different today, of course. Her hair must have been straightened for the event.

He tried hard not to look at her now covered chest, but couldn’t resist. His eyes darted back up again quickly, feeling a flush creep over his neck. Oh, God did she notice him stare?

She still stood with her offered hand and Ben took it. He realised he must have been frowning hard at her, and remembering his manners, he said, ‘Were you hurt when you knocked the desk? It was quite a bang.’

‘
I’m fine.’ She sat in an un-offered chair, crossed one bare, and surprisingly, shapely leg over the other, and nodded happily at him. ‘Fine,’ she repeated, and they sat in silence for a while, with Charlie looking at him expectantly with those almost dazzling green eyes.

‘
Fine,’ he repeated, and gave a slight laugh of embarrassment. ‘Can I help you?’

‘
I missed the meeting,’ she said. ‘I was, er, waylaid. So, I thought I’d just pop in and say hello.’

He shrugged wide shoulders. ‘And now you’ve said it.’ He bent over his desk again, that usually ended conversations with people. But this woman was undeterred.

‘
I’m stock control,’ she said. ‘But I’m aiming to be a writer.’

‘
Good,’ he glanced up. ‘Very good. Well, it was nice to meet you, Ms –?’

‘
Wallis. Charlie Wallis,’ she said, but failed to take his hint and leave him in peace. She pointed to the picture of the earthrise. It wasn’t on the wall, but leaning against it. ‘That inspired me.’

That was quick, he almost said. Instead he said, ‘How long have you been at the paper?’

‘
Six months,’ she said with a beaming smile.

‘
Is that all?’ He was surprised. ‘Not many people would ask me to delay my speech for a person who’d been here for such a short time. You certainly have everybody’s respect.’ He was genuinely impressed.

She grinned, looking pleased. ‘That’s Melvin. He’s taken me under his wing.’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘Melvin?’

‘
Yes. The new senior rewrite editor,’ she said with evident pride in her voice.

‘
Ah, Melvin Giles. The ‘it takes balls to be a fag’ bloke. There isn’t much of a dress code here, is there?’ he said looking at her crumpled skirt and stained blouse.

Charlie began to smooth the creases out of her skirt. ‘I’m normally better attired,’ she said. ‘I had a heavy night last night, and slept in my clothes,’ she ended on a laugh.

Ben really didn’t want to know what his staff got up to away from the office.

‘
Oh, I didn’t mean a heavy night as in a
heavy night
,’ she said flapping a hand, as if realising his displeasure. ‘I was…’ she stopped and bit her lip.

‘
You were what?’ he asked, now enthralled with what this mad woman had been up to last night.

‘
I was visiting a sick nephew,’ she said quickly, a little too quickly, Ben thought. Maybe it was too painful for her to talk about? ‘I fell asleep across his hospital bed, and before I knew it, it was morning.’

‘
I’m very sorry to hear that. Do you have any other family to help you with the burden?’ It wasn’t nice to deal with a sick family member, and he should know.

‘
Family? Oh, no I’ve no family. I never knew my parents, and they had no known rellies.’

‘
Rellies?’

She laughed again, and Ben wondered if she was nervous or generally happy – or on drugs. ‘Relatives, of course!’

‘
Right,’ Ben frowned, and began to feel the beginnings of a headache. He made a mental note of her name, and decided he’d avoid her at all costs in the future. With any luck, she was only here on a temporary contract. ‘Is your, er, nephew very ill?’ he asked, politely.

She nodded her head sadly. ‘He won’t last another night.’

‘
How is he ill?’

Charlie blinked at him. ‘Pardon?’

‘
What’s wrong with him?’

Her eyes moved heavenwards for a moment. ‘Varicose veins,’ she said brightly.

‘
Varicose veins,’ he repeated slowly. ‘Deadly, so I hear.’

‘
They aren’t ordinary varicose veins,’ she said.

‘
I wouldn’t suppose they could be, Miss Wallis.’ He really should be annoyed that she was wasting his time like this, but instead he felt amused. It was the first stirring of humour he’d felt in a long time.

‘
These are a new kind of varicose vein that… oh bugger!’ She grimaced. ‘He isn’t in hospital.’

‘
And not dying?’

‘
No, well yes, maybe no…’ it was the mad woman’s turn to look flustered. ‘I mean, he doesn’t exist so I suppose he is dead. But then, maybe not,’ she frowned thoughtfully.

‘
I guess that makes him neither. I’d wondered how you had a nephew considering you’d just told me you’d no family.’

‘
I lied. I don’t normally lie,’ she said. ‘But my heavy night isn’t like the heavy night as in drinking and clubbing. Mine was totally different.’

Ben could imagine. It probably involved Class A drugs and jumping off buildings. He stood up, this time he was taking no chances; he was going to have her out of his office before he became as mad as she. He went to the door and opened it.

‘
Thank you for coming to say hello, I appreciate it.’

‘
You do?’ she looked pleased. ‘Good, because somehow I always make a bad impression the first time round. It usually takes three or four first bad impressions before I make a good one.’ She sat there chatting away while he held open the door. She looked at her nails and began to push up a cuticle with a nail from her other hand, then inspected her work, before folding her hands back in her lap. ‘You know, Mr Middleton, I really think we’re going to get on really, really well. What’s the B stand for?’

‘
Bee?’ Somehow, Ben felt like he’d just stepped off a fast carousel.

‘
The ‘B’ in your name,’ she pointed to the nameplate lying on his desk ready to be placed on his office door. ‘No, don’t tell me,’ she laughed and tapped her chin. ‘I’m good at guessing people’s names. Hmmm, Barry? Boris? No, of course not, hang on, I’ve got it…’ she scrutinised his face, her eyes half shut. ‘Bill? No, no, that’s short for William. Hmm how about Basil?’

In two strides Ben was across the room and with one hand on her upper arm, he had her up and out of the office in less time than it took her to realise. In fact, she was too busy guessing his name to realise she was standing on the wrong side of his office door and he the other.

‘
Brad?’

‘
It’s Ben.’

But she appeared not to hear. ‘Brian? Oh, I know, Burt! Got it haven’t I?’

Ben nodded, grinning inanely with her. Anything to get away from her before she reduced him to a rocking wreck in the corner of his office. ‘Yep, clever girl. Goodbye.’ And he closed the door in her beaming face.

He sat down at his desk feeling as if he’d done a week’s work in a few short minutes of meeting her, then looked out of his window and saw a blue sky and a blazing
sun.

*

Charlie made herself walk normally when all she really wanted was to sprint and hide in the stationery cupboard for the rest of the day. She had tried her hardest to act normal in Mr Middleton’s office as soon as she recognised Frank Sinatra.

‘
You’ve been ages.’ Melvin looked up from his computer and fixed her with a look of pure guilt. ‘Doll…’

She raised a hand to silence him, bypassed him and sat at her desk. Melvin swivelled round on his chair to watch her.

Oh my God! Mr Burt Middleton had been Frank Sinatra! Charlie buried her head in her hands. She had ruffled his hair! Arghhh!